


life is strangely now

by allucinoctis



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Life Is Strange, Angst, Fanfiction, Gay, Gen, Reader-Insert, Romance, Sadness, Time Travelling Lesbians, but it's still happy tho, dammit i just want my cuties to be hAPPY, f/f - Freeform, f/m - Freeform, genderneutral (mostly) reader, x Reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 12:51:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14081328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allucinoctis/pseuds/allucinoctis
Summary: "whateverthefuck."





	1. welcome !

hi !!

welcome to my first story (i guess lmAO) here on ao3 :)  
i'm deadass so terrified but also super excited to be writing this!!

now, this story will be oneshots with the beloved characters of the wondrous game life is strange, and i will write whatever is requested,,, from caulscott fluff to pricefield angst - as well as 'x reader's (expect lots of those)!!

the first two fics are transferred from my tumblr (which is also allucinoctis) and i wrote both of them over a year ago but i'm still super pleased with them <3

so, really, all you gotta do, my cute-ass reader, is read on and enjoy!! (and also request aaaaahh i'd love to write whatever is asked for)

sincerely,  
\- allucinoctis


	2. too close (nathan prescott x reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nathan hasn't sent his 3am text yet.
> 
> as his closest confidante, you investigate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (transferred from my tumblr, allucinoctis)
> 
> ok so guess the fuck wut mis cariños, it's been over a year since lis was introduced to my empty void of a soul and quite frankly i'm still not over it, so have some nathan joshua prescott bc this is my way of coping with the lingering agony episode 5 left me with
> 
> pls do listen to tøp as you read, from kitchen sink, migraine, lovely and any other song that reminds you of my nathan bby :) there are also so many of the neighbourhood songs that fit him: daddy issues, afraid (quite a good song for this fic) and rip to my youth. idk i really love nbhd and i recommend them
> 
> aLSO this is gonna suck pretty bad bc i made it at like 11pm and it was solely inspired by a prompt "don't fucking touch me!" and i really love exploring nathan's emotional side and i really wanted to say things to my lil nate boi that ik i can never actually say bc he's not real (cri) but i still wanted to so this just happened and i hope you enjoy, fam ♥

* * *

 

normally, you wouldn't go to someone else's dorm at 3am, but you consider this situation to be dire.

you had agreed with the blonde prescott that you would text him at every 3am and he would reply if he had bad nightmares or didn't feel particularly okay. this odd tradition happened when nathan once called you in such a drugged up stupor, you could barely tell he was speaking english. you had asked him to clear his head a little bit, he took it the wrong way and vented his inner frustration to you all in 2am. you knew nathan had issues before and he's very reserved in personal matters, but when he's intoxicated in any way, he becomes so vulnerable and talkative that it breaks your heart how much he endures daily.

thus, the ' _text me in the morning if you need me_ ' became normalcy.

today, though, nathan didn't reply to your early morning text. sure, he could be asleep and perfectly fine, but it's hard to know when it comes to nathan. besides, you wouldn't be able to sleep not knowing for certain.

so, of course, you decide to check up on him in person, armed with many cuddles and hugs.

creeping past the unlit doors, you eventually find nathan's. room number 111. you notice the ' _the prescotts own this town_ ' message has been abruptly rubbed off the slate. whether it was nathan's plethora of haters or himself in a state of upset, you aren't sure.

gingerly, you tap your knuckles against the wood.

...

 _maybe he **is** asleep_.

_well, maybe he isn't! c'mon, m8, you can't let anything happen to him._

you push open the door, and surprisingly enough, it's unlocked. a quiet creak sounds as the wood is pushed aside.

inside nathan's poorly lit room, you don't see anything at first.

upon further inspection, though, you spot a dark figure hunched. you quietly move closer, and see that he is resting his arms on his desk, his face buried in his crossed sleeves. his phone's screen is brightly lit up on the table, showing your message.

' _hey, fam, u ok?_ '

"nathan?" you whisper, tiptoeing further. you repeat his name, slightly louder, when he doesn't respond.

"are you awake?" it's normal for nathan to fall asleep in weird positions; he barely gets any rest lying down, anyway.

you place your hand gently on his shoulder.

instantly, something flares up in nathan and he violently stands up, fiery blue eyes blazing at you.

"don't fucking touch me!" he fiercely yells, a sharp edge to his voice.

wincing, you keep your ground. his face is streaked with tears and his eyes bloodshot - high, upset or drunk, or maybe all three.

"whoa, nathan," you coo, trying to make your tone as soothing as possible, "what happened?"

he's panting; rapid and shallow breaths. a certain element of his eyes calm down; perhaps he realised it's just you, not one of the many people he despises.

blinking a couple times, he gathers himself. "f-fuck, i'm sorry." a bit of a hiccup, you note. "i-it's ... just th-that ..."

"hey, it's okay." you smile. "you don't have to apologise."

you kneel down in front of him, and look up into his now cool eyes.

"tell me what happened." you take nathan's hands into your own and soothingly massage circles into them.

"i was p-planning to try and sleep, but that shit failed since i had a nightmare ... again." he frustratedly sighs. "i-i don't know, they're not usually this bad and when i woke up, i took some pills but they fucking made it worse and i was wide awake for an hour."

"how come you didn't text me?" your eyebrows furrow in question.

his hands begin to twitch a little. "i was gonna. but, then something hit me."

he locks your gaze, and you give him an urging expression.

"why do you stay? why do you care so much? how do you find it so easy to devote so much time and effort into me? nearly every asshole i've ever gotten close to has either wanted something in return or just fucking left me. but you're just ... here. and you never leave. you never ask for anything." he stutters a few times and his eyes become glassy with oncoming tears.

your expression softens and you rise a bit from your position to match nathan's eye level. "you think you bother me?"

"don't i, like, waste your time? aren't you fed up with me?" he tilts his head as he speaks and his voice goes quieter.

"no, of course not, nathan." you shake your head. "i really care about you as a person. if you're not doing well, i'm gonna do everything in my power to help you. i don't know what other bullshit your ass of a father feeds you, but you don't owe me anything and not everyone wants something from you. you're valued and cared for, and if you ever feel alone, remember i'm never leaving you.

i know that sometimes things seem dark and hopeless, but you never have to brave it on your own. there are so many things that are worth being alive for, nate, and i'm here to experience them with you."

a small smile tugs at the blonde's mouth and he visibly relaxes a lot more. "th-thank you." he rests his head against your chest as he steadies his breathing.

"everything's gonna turn out alright, nate, don't worry."

since you know nathan is an avid fan of twenty one pilots, you take your phone out of your pocket and play 'lovely', a song you know he adores.

nathan chuckles, the vibrations spreading through your chest.

quite frankly, this boy had begun to grow on you, and you aren't about to cut him off anytime soon.

 


	3. cosy mornings (max caulfield x reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you bump into an american while walking to the supermarket.
> 
> little do you know, she's a lost ex-time traveller.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (transferred from my tumblr, allucinoctis)
> 
> yES i still adore life is strange
> 
> no i will probably never get over it
> 
> anyhoo prepare yourselves for more max fics bc dammit i love my lil maxie so much !!
> 
> aLSO, there will be mentions of sex scenes (not outright smut bc i can't write that for shit ahhaHa) so if that makes you squeamish, you've been warned ;)

* * *

 

it's fairly early in the morning when you awake, snuggled under several layers of duvets, max's arms wound round your torso, her face nestled into your neck. you feel her gentle breaths on your skin as she peacefully sleeps. smiling, you thread your fingers through her chestnut hair affectionately. you love these moments; times where there's nothing but the two of you together, undisturbed.

checking the time, you see it's around 10am, so you decide to try making some breakfast.

slowly, you ease max's arms off you. she frowns in her sleep, and you inwardly laugh at your girlfriend as she grabs a pillow to substitute your absence, loving her a little more.

walking through your apartment to the kitchen, you dwell on how things have panned out for you and the brunette asleep in your bedroom. to be honest, you weren't expecting anything eventful in your life for a while, and to have max tumble in it all of a sudden just half a year ago still surprises you.

she was travelling around europe when you two first met - she was staying in a hotel in paris, your home city. you had lived here all your life and it wasn't uncommon to have americans passing through and touring the city. as most foreigners do, she got lost and you happened to be a helpful stranger, approaching her.

you were just passing through, planning to buy some groceries that day. you noticed max, awfully confused, glancing round the streets, her sky-blue eyes darting from her phone screen to the buildings. lost tourists were a common sight for parisians, and you felt kind of sorry for this little brunette.

"excuse me, miss?" you always had been slightly insecure communicating with english speakers because you were aware of your slight accent, but this one looked instantly relieved by someone speaking to her. "are you lost? do you need help?"

"yes! oh yes, i am very lost." she answers.

 _ah, american._ you note her accent. she wasn't one of those annoying ones, though, who travelled in large, loud groups, wearing stripes and berets and speaking french with heavy accents, "bonjour! comment allez-vous?"

"i'm looking for the henri cartier bresson foundation." she states, showing a big white building on her phone. you instantly recognise it. "do you know where it is?"

"oh, the photography gallery? that's not far from here; down to the bottom of the road, take two rights then take the second left. i could walk you there if you want." you offer. there's nothing you had to do today other than buy groceries. why not help the lost girl?

"i'd really appreciate that, thank you!" she smiles as you two begin walking. "can i ask, what's your name?"

you smile back and introduce yourself, stating your first and last name.

"max caulfield," she says, "humble american at your service."

the two of you laugh.

"you're funny, max. different from other americans."

"how so?" she asks curiously, looking at you.

"well, for starters, you're not wearing those ugly berets foreigners think we're obsessed with. i've only ever seen an actual french person wear those once." you comment.

"i get what you mean, everyone around here wears pretty ordinary clothes. but the culture round here is pretty different - people are very reserved and formal. there are handshakes and cheek kisses everywhere when it comes to greetings." she says, adjusting her messenger bag on her shoulder. max is pretty casual with her dress, you see. it wasn't particularly cold or warm that day, so she wore a red flannel with black jeans.

"that's kind of how the french work." you explain, laughing. "generally, people are pretty closed off and distant with strangers. i like to be more open, especially with the foreigners."

"was i an obvious one?" she queries. "foreigner, i mean."

"a little." you both laugh. "you did look ridiculously lost and confused."

"i did, didn't i?" max's laughing subsides.

"so, how are you liking  _paris, la ville de l'amour_?" you ask, dramatising your french.

max plays along. "je l'aime beaucoup. le temps n'a pas été aussi mauvais. ( _i'm liking it quite a lot. the weather hasn't been that bad_ )"

upon seeing your slightly impressed expression, she continues. "j'aime aussi la nourriture, en particulier les pâtisseries. ( _i also love the food, particularly the pastries_ )" her french is pretty good - only a tiny bit of an accent. she can't form the guttural 'r' sound properly; a common struggle foreigners have.

"your french is great!" you compliment, smiling. "a lot of foreigners only know 'bonjour' and just try communicating in english all the time. they forget they're in a country that speaks french natively."

you always appreciate it when tourists try learning french; it shows effort and thought. one thought that always came to your mind was,  _why do foreigners come here, a place that is renowned for a foreign language, yet they get frustrated when someone doesn't know english?_ to be honest, you found english quite hard when you studied it - luckily though, your parents sent you to a dual language french and english pre-school so you picked up on the germanic tongue early on. even then, you only spoke english in school and by high school, you no longer learned it so you did end up with a little bit of an accent. not that anyone minded - every english speaker liked your accent.  _"how exotically french!"_  they'd exclaim.

"ah, thank you!" max laughs, running her fingers through her short hair. "i went to a few french classes when i first came here so i managed to learn some basic sentences. my native language has always been english; back in america everyone speaks english and sometimes, there's a little spanish but other than that, we're pretty monolingual. here, in europe though, everyone speaks at least two languages. i was in switzerland a couple months ago and there was this woman who spoke perfect german to one customer, then french to another, then english to me in a cafe. in english-speaking countries, we see our language as a global lingua franca, but when we travel to other places, we find they sometimes don't speak a word of our tongue."

just as max finishes her sentence, you find yourselves in front of the photography gallery you were walking her to.

"here we are, max." you state, turning to her and beaming. "this is what you were looking for, right?"

she looks from the building to her phone screen, then back at you. "yeah, it is. thanks a lot for showing me where it is."

"no worries." you place your hand on max's shoulder. "it was lovely speaking to you, max. i hope we meet again." you give her one last smile before turning round to make your way downtown, the thought of buying groceries lingering in your mind.

just when you're about to insert earphones to listen to music, a call resonates in the air.

a call of your name.

you whirl around, seeing max run up to you, the sound of your name elicited from her lips.

"_name_!" she pants, stopping before you. "i-i was wondering if i could get your n-number."

you blink.

"u-uh ..." the idea of giving max your number wanders through your head. why not? she doesn't seem like a bad person, and you did say you'd like to meet her again. "sure!" you decide.

she grins, and she passes you her phone. once you type in your number, you pass it back to her.

"thank you! i'll be sure to call you sometime." her cobalt-blue eyes lock your gaze as she gives you a heartwarming smile. her fringe brushes just past her eyes.

"and i'll be sure to pick up." you comment, making the two of you laugh.

"well, i should be getting going now." max stuffs her phone in her messenger bag as she begins to leave. "bye, _name_. take care!"

once she has walked off, out of sight, you allow yourself to breathe.

at the time, you had simply hoped for a friend in max caulfield, but after that first meeting, it was obvious the friendship was going to develop into something more. soon, you guys regularly met up - for movies, coffee and (since you soon found out she was a photographer) long walks in the city and park, taking photos. she was then a frequent visitor to your apartment. you would have TV show marathons together, you'd show her your favourite collection of french films and share stories of each other's pasts and experiences.

it wasn't long before you offered her to move in with you. she had been staying at the hotel for almost five months and you kind of wanted an excuse to see the brunette american every day. although she was shocked at first, she agreed and the both of you became roommates.

you never really doubted your sexuality. you always knew you liked any gender; girl, boy and anyone in between. so you accepted your feelings for max pretty quickly. however, even though she did love you back, she was reluctant to show it. you thought it was because she hadn't decided her orientation yet, but there was soon a long discussion where she explained that her previous love had left and she was still emotionally struggling with how to deal with it.

"we both really cared about each other." her eyes glassed over with memories of the past. "i just ... had to let her go."

"what happened to her?" you softly ask, cupping max's face with your hands gently.

she sighs, visibly tired. "it's a super long story. but we were childhood friends. then we were separated for five years and when we eventually saw each other, our relationship rekindled. there was still a lot we never sorted out or spoke about, and we never got to because she soon died after that."

"oh, max." you whisper, rubbing your thumb on her cheek. "i'm sure she's in a better place now."

she looks up, and gazes into your eyes.

slowly smiling, she replies, "i'm sure she is."

whenever max had been sad before, you usually make a french joke to her or quote a french poet and get her to talk about the history of the phrase. it sounded odd, sure, but it always cheered her up.

so, you move next to max and bring her head close to your chest. soothingly, you run your fingers through her hair. "there's this french phrase 'ah, la vache!' which basically means 'oh my goodness', but it translates to-"

"'oh, the cow'?" max wonders, then begins laughing.

"then there's also 'avoir le cafard'" -  _to have a cockroach_  - "which means to be feeling blue or gloomy." you add.

she giggles, saying, "if i had a cockroach, i'd certainly be sad." 

pleased that max feels better, you kissed her forehead, continuing to massage her scalp.

currently, three months later, you in the kitchen, preparing pancakes, you think back on that moment. max then fell asleep that night and a week after, you asked her out. of course, she had said yes and a long awaited make out session ensued. between then and now, you guys had had sex frequently. the first time, max was quite nervous but it went smoothly.

you love her moans; although she's a quiet moaner, what she lacks in volume she makes up for in frequency. you could simply trace your fingers ever so lightly over her bra and she would release a soft moan.

you've had several lovers before, but you soon noticed how, with max, the connection was emotional rather than solely sexual.

you truly loved each other, and it was evident in how you guys spent almost every waking hour in the presence of each other.

as you pour the batter in the frying pan, you feel max's arms encase you in an an embrace from behind.

"good morning." she mutters, kissing your neck.

"bonjour, mon amour." you affectionately lean your head into hers as her lips continue to travel along your skin.

"i really am hungry," she states innocently, then gently bites your shoulder.

you laugh at her tone. "for me or for breakfast?"

"either." she says plainly, moving away from you. "but pancakes do sound, and smell, pretty good right now."

she smiles, one that reaches her aquamarine eyes that you constantly find yourself falling in love with.

you flip the pancake around in the pan as max continues, "hey, _name_."

"hm?"      

"ne pensez-vous pas que je suis un bon coup?" 

you look up from the pan. max's french has definitely improved, despite her accent still being a bit obvious. now, she's using common french phrases pretty well. the phrase she's using, 'un bon coup' translates to a good hit, but it is used when referring to whether or not someone is good in bed.

"well, you certainly aren't bad." you reply with the same nonchalance. 

this makes the both of you laugh warmly. you often end up having these types of jokes with each other.

"hey, _name_." max says, more seriously. 

"yep?"

"i'm really happy with you."

you smile at her, your heart filled with adoration for her. "so am i, max."

she makes herself comfortable by wrapping her arms around you and resting her chin on your shoulder.

"and then, do you know, mademoiselle maxine, i believe i am a little in love with you."

max smiles, truly happy. you quoted les misérables, both yours and max's favourite book, musical and film. although max despised hearing her full first name, she loved how french you make it sound.

"to that, i would say, mademoiselle _name_, i am a little in love with you too."  


End file.
